


and the anomaly is slipping into familiar ways

by sleeplessmiles



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Drinking, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 08:47:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3061490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeplessmiles/pseuds/sleeplessmiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘They can go if somebody else goes with them.’</p><p>Jemma scrunches up her nose in distaste. Skye gapes.</p><p>‘So, a chaperone, is what you’re saying.’</p><p>--</p><p>Skye and Jemma go for a girls night out. With Lance.</p><p>[Written for Lance Hunter Appreciation Week, Day 2: Favourite Relationship]</p>
            </blockquote>





	and the anomaly is slipping into familiar ways

**Author's Note:**

> Bit of bad language in this one, kids, so take note.

 

‘And so, sir, in conclusion: a night out for Skye and myself would not only greatly improve morale, but it would also boost our endorphin levels – which, as you know, have been frightfully low in recent times.’

Jemma finishes her mini-presentation with a flourish, smiling proudly at everyone in Coulson’s office. Skye grins back at her, nodding and giving her an encouraging thumbs up. May, who’s as close to the door as she can possibly be, seems to be wondering why she’s even present for this in the first place.

Coulson is standing behind his desk with his arms folded, looking amused by the whole thing.

 _Yeesh_ , Skye thinks. _Tough crowd._

‘Okay, Jemma,’ Coulson begins. ‘I hear what you’re saying – ’

‘I’m saying it too!’ Skye pipes up. Then, off Coulson’s incredulous face and May’s raised eyebrows, ‘Just… she’s better… at the, logic… okay, no, keep going.’

‘Thank you. I hear what you’re saying, but I’m not letting the two of you go out to a bar alone.’

Jemma frowns, visibly confused that her flawless logic has been thwarted. Skye’s just offended.

‘That’s bullshit!’ she insists.

‘ _Skye,_ ’ May warns.

‘Sorry. _Due respect,_ sir, but that’s bullshit.’

May just sighs.

‘It’s not,' Coulson states calmly. 'You’re both too vulnerable out there.’

‘Coulson.’ Skye takes a half-step forward. ‘We can handle ourselves. I’ve been training with May for months now, and what was that other thing again? Oh, that’s right: I can _literally_ _cause earthquakes_.’

On Skye’s left, Jemma clears her throat pointedly.

‘Oh, right. And Simmons can… shoot a gun?’ Skye guesses, looking across at her friend. Jemma perks up, excited by the prospect of boasting about her talents.

‘Yes, I can. Remember how long you spent teaching me, sir? I’m highly adept at it, and my posture is excellent – you told me so yourself. Plus, May taught me how to break holds. I’m more than capable of handling myself.’

Coulson shakes his head, beginning to rummage around on his desk for something. ‘I’m not budging on this.’

Skye feels her face fall. ‘So that’s it? We can’t go?’

‘I didn’t say that. I said you can’t go _alone_.’

May frowns at this, seeming to sense she’s going to be dragged into this somehow. ‘Coulson?’

He looks up at her.

‘They can go if somebody else goes with them.’

Jemma scrunches up her nose in distaste. Skye gapes.

‘So, a chaperone, is what you’re saying.’

‘Call it whatever you want.’

Jemma’s face lights up suddenly.

‘Oh! Can we take Bobbi?’

‘That’s a negative: I need her here.’ 

‘Oh.’ She frowns again.

Coulson finds whatever he was looking for on his desk, quickly jotting his signature at the bottom. He looks up again. ‘Take Hunter.’

‘No.’

May doesn’t even pause before answering; it’s like a reflex. Skye and Jemma aren’t far behind.

‘ – no _way_ – ’

‘ – absolutely not, sir – ’

‘ – This isn’t a forum for discussion,’ Coulson says loudly, drowning out their protests. ‘Take Hunter with you, or stay here. Those are your options.’

Skye looks across to meet Jemma’s gaze. By some silent agreement, they turn twin pleading looks onto May.

She looks physically pained by what she has to tell them.

‘Director’s call.’

They stare at her for a moment, stunned, before turning to look at each other again. The utter betrayal Skye feels is reflected on Jemma’s face.

‘Shotgun not being the one to tell him,’ Skye mutters. Jemma’s eyes widen.

‘No!’ she whispers – or, at least that’s what Skye thinks she’s going for. She’s not very good at it. ‘I can’t _ask him_ – that’s not how it works. It just… happens.’

‘Does _this_ need to happen in my office?’ Coulson asks pointedly, sitting at his desk now.

‘No, sir,’ Jemma answers sadly.

‘Besides,’ he continues, looking up briefly. ‘Neither of you have to tell him; I’m sure May will happily read him the riot act.’

Their eyes light up as they spin to face May again.

May just smirks.

 

-

-

 

The girls are all dressed up and waiting just outside the lab for Lance to show, and Skye’s having the time of her life.

Fitz is trying to pretend he’s working, to cover for the fact that he keeps openly gaping at Jemma; she looks _spectacular_ , with her glitzy heels and her mussed hair and her smoky eyes. Jemma, for her part, is pretending to not notice any of this is happening, nervously playing with a lock of her hair. But she knows – Skye can see the pleased look at the back of her eyes. There’s no way in hell the girl doesn’t know.

It’s hilarious. A little sad, sure. But mostly hilarious.

 _Idiots._  

Then Lance appears, shit-eating grin firmly in place.

Fitz turns to gape at him instead.

‘What the hell?’ he asks aloud.

Lance only winks in reply.

‘Shall we, ladies?’ he announces with a flourish, reaching out to wrap his arms around their shoulders. Jemma scoffs, taking a large step out of his reach. Skye grabs his wrist and holds the offending hand in the air.

Lance looks over his shoulder at Fitz one last time, and Skye can only guess at the helpless expression he’s making.

 _‘What the hell?’_ Fitz repeats.

 

-

-

 

‘How’d it go with May?’

‘Let’s just say that if either of you get so much as a papercut, I’m fucked. So let’s have a nice, clean night, shall we?’

 

-

-

 

‘You know what this is like?’

Jemma’s a bit drunk.

‘I don’t know, Jemma. What’s it like?’ 

‘This is like, that scene from _The Lion King_.’

Skye snorts. ‘The scene where they’re sitting in some sleazy bar getting trashed? Sure.’ 

‘I’m talking about the bird, Skye.’

Jemma’s eyes are wide and imploring. Skye frowns intently, racking her memory. Bird. Bird, bird, bird.

(Her brain’s pretty cloudy.)

(It’s possible Skye’s a bit drunk too.)

‘I dunno. There were a lot of lions.’

‘Zazu, Skye! I’m talking about Zazu!’

‘Oh! Right.’ What the fuck is a Zazu, is what she doesn’t ask.

But Jemma won’t be deterred. 

‘All they wanted to do was sneak out and have a good time, but the king sent that stuck-up little bird to babysit them.’

Actually, that sounds vaguely familiar.

‘It’s a tragedy, Skye,’ Jemma insists, inclining her bottle at Skye to emphasise her point.

Skye huffs out a laugh.

‘It wasn’t _that_ bad.’

‘No, it’s _literally_ a tragedy,’ Jemma clarifies, eyes lighting up. ‘It’s an adaptation of Hamlet, which is one of Shakespeare’s tragedies. His best, actually. Probably.’

‘Okay, didn’t come here for an English lesson, weirdo.’

‘There’s a metaphoric resonance here, is what I am trying to say, and also Lance is Zazu.’

'Zazu' is sitting across at the bar, nursing a drink and scanning the room thoughtfully.

Skye turns back to her companion.

‘Wow. Actual Disney princess Jemma Simmons is a Disney fan. Who knew?’

Jemma straightens from where she was slouched over on her bar stool, an indignant expression crossing her face.

‘Just because I was an exceptional child, Skye, doesn’t mean I spent all of my time studying.’

‘I didn’t – ’

‘ – I had a life too, you know.’

‘I never said you didn’t!’

‘Well.’ She fidgets. ‘Good, then.’

‘Good,’ Skye repeats, amused. She absently follows a line of condensation on her beer with a finger, swiping across the top of the peeling label.

It's just really nice to be out.

When she looks back up, Jemma’s gaze has crept over to settle on Lance. Her forehead is creased, as though she’s thinking hard about something. 

‘We should ask him to sit with us,’ she finally decides.

Skye blinks, stunned.

‘Whoa,’ she protests. ‘What happened to girls night?’

‘But he’s all alone over there,’ Jemma coos. ‘Plus, he’s been really good.’

She’s right. He hasn’t tried to interrupt or bother them all night. Skye glances across, watches him reject the advances of some poor woman.

‘Doesn’t look too lonely to me.’

‘There are different kinds of loneliness, Skye,’ Jemma replies quietly, and suddenly she doesn’t look so inebriated anymore. Skye puts her beer down, feeling a more serious tone settle across their little table.

Jemma’s staring at some spot above Lance’s head, looking reflective.

‘You can feel lonely being by yourself, of course. But you can be just as lonely in a room full of people. Or even in a room full of people you _know_.’ 

They’re not just talking about Lance anymore. Not for the first time, Skye feels vaguely sick in the pit of her stomach at the thought of Jemma alone in some apartment somewhere, the only people with whom she interacts working for an evil organisation. She thinks of how quiet Jemma had been upon returning, the tentative, absent smiles she would give everyone.

Jemma’s unlikely friendship with Lance makes the tiniest bit more sense.

‘He lost his family this year,’ Jemma finishes on a sigh, looking up at Skye with sad eyes.

And yeah, fuck. She’s completely right.

Skye’s chest feels heavy.

Ah, what the hell.

‘Hunter!’ Skye bellows across the bar. Lance turns around. Some other guy closer to them also turns around, standing up.

‘Me?’ not-Lance Hunter asks.

Jemma starts laughing. Skye scrunches up her nose.

‘ _No_ , not you. I don’t even know you.’

The man sits back down sadly.

‘Do you think Lance has seen _The Lion King_?’ Jemma asks thoughtfully as Lance makes his way over, and yeah, she’s back to sounding as drunk as she is.

Skye shrugs. ‘Most people have, I guess.’

Jemma quirks a brow playfully.

‘Ten dollars says he cried.’

‘You’re on, Jemma Simmons.’

‘You summoned me?’ Lance asks, slowing to a halt next to their table.

‘Yeah. Have you seen _The Lion King_?’

He makes a confused face, answers anyway. ‘Everyone’s seen _The Lion King_.’

‘Make you cry?’

‘No,’ he snaps, too fast and too defensive. Jemma straightens on her stool, smiling indulgently.

‘Ugh. Show-off.’ Skye turns back to Lance. ‘Pull up a chair, Zazu.’

He looks vaguely offended at the name, but his attention is otherwise preoccupied.

‘You sure? Don’t want to interrupt or anything.’

Skye sighs. He really is kind of sweet sometimes.

‘One time offer, pal.’

Without further hesitation, he claims the spare bar stool. ‘Thank God; I was fighting off women with a stick over there.’

 _Sometimes_ , Skye repeats to herself drily.

‘Do I need to get a girly drink or something?’ he asks innocently, eyes sliding across to see if Jemma will take the bait.

She does. Of course she does.

‘What, you mean 'girly' like straight whiskey?’

‘And we’re off,’ Skye announces, more to herself than anyone else, but she’s smiling as she says it.

 

-

-

 

‘I could pick up _anyone_ in this bar,’ Jemma insists, eyes wide and serious.

Lance is shaking with laughter. He has to put his drink down so that it doesn’t spill.

‘You think I’m exaggerating? I could do it. Watch me, I’ll do it.’

‘We believe you,’ Skye quickly assures, because Jemma’s got that look in her eye that she gets when she considers something a challenge. Best to nip this one in the bud early.

Lance clearly disagrees, the shit-stirrer.

‘But the real question is this: is your knowledge of the periodic table superior to everyone in this bar?’

Jemma scoffs, genuinely offended.

‘Of course it is! I’m a _genius_ , Lance. I’m smarter than all of them. I’m smarter than _you_.’ Her eyes take on a manic quality. ‘Do you need me to prove it? Because I will. Watch me, I’ll do it.’

Skye just laughs and laughs and feels like something tight is releasing in her chest.

 

-

-

 

They’re all pretty drunk when the incident happens.

Lance is telling them some disgusting story from when he was in the army, and Jemma is absolutely riveted. It probably has something to do with the way he’s describing his friend’s injury, judging by the way Jemma keeps asking complex-sounding medical questions, but Skye can’t be sure. She zoned out, out of self-preservation, when they started talking about being able to see the guy’s bone through a cut on his leg.

That’s when they’re approached by a guy Skye’s going to go right ahead and call a cautionary tale against anabolic steroid use. He hovers over the back of Skye and Jemma, leaning in close.

‘How are you ladies doing?’

 _Ugh._  

‘Sorry pal; not tonight,’ Skye answers for the both of them. Jemma’s still too enthralled with Lance’s gross-ass story.

The guy doesn’t even straighten up from where he’s looming over them.

‘Aw, come on. Just a little?’

Jemma and Lance are both looking, now.

‘No, thank you,’ Jemma reiterates, voice calm but steely.

‘I could show _you_ a good time, sweetcheeks.’

‘Hey, alright, that’s enough,’ Lance butts in. ‘They told you they’re not interested, so why don’t you take a walk, mate?’

‘Don’t think I asked you.’

‘Don’t think I give a shit,’ Lance shoots back.

The guy’s looking pretty pissed off at this new development.

‘What are you: their brother?’ 

‘Something like that,’ Lance replies, standing up. It’s almost menacing. Almost. ‘Now, if it’s all the same to you, we are _trying_ to have a girls night, so we’d appreciate if you left us in peace.’

The guy takes a step closer to Lance, fists clenched threateningly. ‘You wanna say that to my _face_?’

Lance frowns.

‘I… just did?’

What happens next happens extraordinarily fast: with a growl, the man mountain takes an alarmingly quick swing at Lance, who’s a bit too drunk to get out of the way in time. The punch lands, sending Lance staggering back into their table. Without hesitating, Skye jumps up and grabs the dude’s arm, at the same time that Jemma aims a vicious kick at his knee. While he’s doubled over, clutching at his knee and howling in pain, Skye manages to twist his arm behind him and slam him into their table.

All three of them stare at each other for a moment, wide-eyed.

‘ _Ow_ ,’ Lance says.

‘What a fucking jerk,’ Skye says.

‘Oh my _God_ ,’ Jemma says.

And then security are running over, and Lance is flashing their fake badges (‘We’re FBI, gents! I _swear_ it!’), and Skye’s a big enough person to admit it – it’s not looking good for girls night.

 

-

-

 

‘I know you people are authorised or whatever,’ the bartender’s saying to Skye, ‘but no one’s gonna buy drinks here if they think the feds are gonna jump on them.’

‘We’re _really_ not going to do that,’ Skye promises, looking across at the other two. Jemma’s inspecting Lance’s eye socket, but she’s got a wild look in her glassy eyes from all the adrenaline. Lance is complaining loudly.

They’re both pretty drunk and uncoordinated.

‘Still,’ the guy insists.

‘Ugh. Fine,’ she concedes. ‘But can you grab me a shot of vodka before we go?’

‘For him?’ he asks, inclining his head at Lance.

‘Nope. For me – I have to listen to this the whole way home.’

‘I subluxed his patella, Lance!’ Jemma exclaims for maybe the tenth time, the biggest, dopiest grin on her face. Lance is smiling back fondly.

‘I know! I saw. Pretty impressive form, princess. Might have to start training you for real.’

‘For real?’ Jemma repeats incredulously, dropping her hands from his face.

Lance’s expression drops.

‘Oh, fuck. That’s not what I meant – ’

‘Who’s to judge what’s real? Who’s to say my training wasn’t real? _You’re_ not real.’

Skye sighs, catching the bartender’s eye again. ‘Better make it a double.’

 

-

-

 

When they finally limp back into base (Lance limps, anyway, having rolled his ankle in the scuffle; Skye’s propping him up against her as she walks), May and Bobbi are sitting at the table in the rec room.

Jemma perks right up.

‘Bobbi! May! I kicked a man’s kneecap out!’

‘ _What?_ ’ Bobbi asks, alarmed. May’s eyes immediately flick down to Lance’s knees, evaluating.

Skye snorts.

‘Not his,’ she clarifies on Jemma’s behalf. ‘Just some asshole beefcake jerk at the bar.’

May narrows her eyes at Lance. 

‘What did you do?’ she asks – accuses, really. Lance’s face is disbelieving.

‘Hey, I defended their honour!’

Jemma tuts, leaning over to inspect his eye one last time. ‘Tried to, anyway.’

‘We defended _your_ honour, moron,’ Skye agrees.

Bobbi walks over to take his weight from Skye. 

‘Looks Coulson might have to let you ladies go out on your own next time.’

Skye and Jemma make eye contact, Jemma smiling softly.

‘Actually,’ Skye ventures, ‘I think we might keep him.’

‘All things considered,’ Jemma agrees.

Lance just groans loudly.

‘Did you _really_ have to say that in front of other people?’ he whines. ‘You’re ruining my reputation.’ 

'Your reputation as a big softie?' Jemma asks, a cheeky smile on her face.

'Hey!' he protests. 'I'll have you know – ’

‘ – Alright, I think we’ll be going to bed now,’ Bobbi interjects, leading a complaining Lance from the room.

‘You girls too,’ May orders, shooting Skye a significant look and inclining her head at Jemma.

Who is still incredibly drunk.

‘Don’t have to tell me twice,’ Skye mutters, ushering Jemma towards the door.

‘You know what this reminds me of?’ Jemma asks Skye dreamily.

‘What does it remind you of?’

‘That scene from _The Lion King_ – ’

‘Oh, my _God_ , Jemma, shut up!’

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> (also, for anyone interested, you can find me at imperfectlychaotic over on tumblr!)


End file.
